ain't much holy 'bout this (1/1)
Title: Ain't Much Holy 'Bout This
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Romance/PWP
Pairings or Characters: Cowboy!Dean/Preacher!Cas
Warnings: Western AU, sort-of exhibitionism
Word Count: 4576
Summary: "I don’t mean to presume, preacher, but I been watchin’ you since my brother and me came to this town, and I think you and me got a little somethin’ in common."
Author Notes: lol how do I western. Sorry fer keepin' y'all waitin'. Hopefully the dialogue ain't none too cheesy, folks. And I ain't done too much research, neither, so apologies for them historical inaccuracies. /tips stetson
UPDATE! now featuring lovely gift art from my friend yuyunurse@tumblr! :')
Ain't Much Holy 'Bout This
"So, I hear you're the town preacher."
"That I am."
Cas drags his finger along the rim of his glass, smiling as he focuses on the wooden counter. He's had this conversation countless times with other drifters, striking up conversation when they find him at the saloon and get curious, but for some reason, it's hard to look this one in the eye. Cas sees big hands playing with a hat out of the corner of his eye and wonders absently how many women have felt those hands, probably rough and strong from years of riding horses and working in the plains.
"Then how come I've been seein' you in this bar nearly every afternoon?"
"Because I like the folk who're in here nearly every afternoon," he shrugs, flashing a grin over at Ellen. She winks back at him, pouring someone a drink down at the other end of the bar.
"Yeah, but this ain't exactly the place for a holy man to be spendin' his time. No offense meant," he adds, turning to Ellen who gives him a glare, "But even with this bein' a fine establishment and all, what about your church?"
Cas finally looks away from his glass, into green eyes that are looking at him different than he's ever been looked at before. It makes his stomach clench and his palm sweat around his drink, and he feels drunk even if he's only had a sip or two of his whiskey.
"My church is fine. This town is full of kind folk, so I don't have much to worry for. And I am a man and I do spread the word of the Lord, but, uh, Mister...?"
"Dean," the cowboy says, and Cas waits for a last name, but that's all he gets.
"Well, Mister Dean, I promise there ain't much that's holy 'bout me," he smiles.
The green eyes narrow for a second before Dean's lifting off his seat, hat back on his head, and Cas expects him to turn and leave, disinterested, but Dean grabs him by the arm and drags him towards the back. "Wait, uh, Mister--"
He's cut off when Dean pushes him hard up against the wall of the hallway towards Ellen's office, between the spare tables and chairs kept in the back, the two of them hidden from the front of the saloon. There are rarely more than three people looking to get drunk before sundown, so the bar is fairly empty, but he still feels nervous, wondering if anyone saw and got curious.
"I don't mean to presume, preacher, but I been watchin' you since my brother and me came to this town, and I think you and me got a little somethin' in common."
Cas' eyes are focused on Dean's mouth, and he has a feeling Dean's right. He licks his lips and nods, mumbling absently, "That so?" Cas watches Dean's mouth turn up in a smile and feels his stomach fill with butterflies.
"That's so," Dean replies, tipping up his hat and leaning forward, pressing their mouth's together.
Their lips are both still wet from whiskey, and Cas can taste it on him. He remembers being a kid and kissing Anna from down the road, when he had no idea what he liked and what he didn't, and how it was absolutely nothing like this. He hasn't kissed anyone since he was young, both being a man of the church and a man looking not to get hanged for being different, but he imagines even if he had, it wouldn't be like kissing Dean.
Cas melts against Dean's mouth, opening his lips when he feels Dean's tongue slip between them. One of Dean's hands--rough and calloused, just like Cas had imagined--slides against his neck, thumb rubbing against his jaw, while the other starts undoing the buttons of his vest. Cas' heart is hammering in his chest, because he's never done this before and he's never known anyone did this, either, but he doesn't want to stop, hands gripping desperately into Dean's coat at the shoulders. Dean lets out an annoyed grunt into his mouth, and Cas suddenly feels self-conscious, pushing at him until he pulls away.
"What?" Dean asks, hand falling away from his neck and tugging at Cas' vest until he drops his arms and lets Dean pull it off of his arms.
"I'm sorry," Cas hisses, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth while Dean goes for his undershirt next.
"For what?" Dean asks absently, concentrating on the buttons.
"I'm no good at this, I've never-- I'm sorry, you're probably-- It's my fault, sorry," Cas rambles nervously, eyes squeezing shut.
"Woah, woah, calm down, preacher, what're you no good at? You're doin' just fine if you ask me," Dean laughs, voice quiet and head leaning forward, pressing kisses along Cas' jaw and down his neck. Cas shivers, not used to being touched like this or feeling like this or letting himself give in like this. Dean pulls away again, Cas already missing his touch, and looks hard into Cas' eyes as he opens them back up, asking, "But you really ain't never done somethin' like this before?"
Cas shakes his head and feels his face heat up in embarrassment.
"Well, I suppose that makes some sense, seein' as you're a preacher and all. But even if you got no experience, I'll show you a real good time," Dean grins, getting Cas' undershirt unbuttoned and starting to pull it off his arms. Cas feels naked already as it slides off and onto the floor, even though he's still got his trousers and his underthings on, but Dean's eyes are hungry and his hands work fast. He wonders if there's something he should be doing--maybe getting to work on Dean's clothes or helping with his belt as Dean concentrates on getting that undone--but he can't do much besides breath and hold on with Dean's mouth on his skin.
He's painfully hard inside his slacks, and when Dean runs his knuckles against him as he works at the button of his trousers, belt already adding to the pile of clothes on the floor, he bites down hard on his tongue to stop from crying out. He presses his hips forward without thinking, pushing for Dean to touch him again, touch him more, and Dean laughs against his throat.
"Hey, preacher," Dean says quietly, slipping Cas' slacks down his thighs and pressing a hand over his cock through his underwear, teasing him with light touches.
"Wh-What?" Cas breathes, his whole body shaking.
"You got a name?"
Cas blinks and goes still, realizing he never introduced himself.
"Castiel. Castiel Novak."
"Castiel?" Dean repeats, raising an eyebrow, "That's a... unusual name."
"Most... Most folk call me Cas."
Dean's eyes go wide, sparkling with something Cas doesn't recognize.
"Cas," Dean says, a smile breaking out on his face as the name falls off his lips. Cas feels his legs buckle at the sound of it coming out of Dean's mouth, and if Dean hadn't grabbed him, he would've crashed onto the floor. "Woah, easy there, preacher."
"Sorry, I'm sorry," Cas finds himself blabbering again, and Dean interrupts him with a hard kiss. He pulls back, their lips breaking apart, but their noses still touching and Dean's breath warm on Cas' mouth.
"I've got a job for you, Cas," Dean says, pulling his hand away from Cas' cock and leaving him with his trousers around his boots and his long johns still buttoned up. Cas nods without thinking, his knees unsteady when Dean calls him by name again, but he manages to keep him up on his feet this time. Dean reaches above him and unhooks the lamp from its place on the wall, bringing it down and pushing it into Cas' hands. The sun doesn't set for a few more hours, so the lamp hasn't been lit, and Cas stares at it curiously, not sure what he's supposed to do with it.
"Take this apart for me, would ya?"
"Huh? What for?"
"We'll be needin' that oil in a bit," Dean explains, and Cas is reminded how inexperienced he really is. He bites down on his tongue and nods, grimacing at the lamp as he works to unscrew it, while Dean slides out of his coat, dropping it onto the floor with the rest of Cas' things. Cas finds his attention split between the lamp and Dean undressing, hands faltering on the glass chimney as Dean's go for his belt. He's gotten it out of his slacks before noticing Cas' attention on him, letting out a laugh. "Hey, Cas, c'mon now, focus."
Cas flushes and looks down, fumbling awkwardly with the metal wick holder until he's got that undone, dropped on one of the tables around them with the glass half of the lamp.
"I-I think I got it," Cas mumbles, hands slipping on the bottom of the lamp filled with oil. Dean beams, kissing along his jaw and making his eyes fall shut, pressing his body against him, his cock hard through his trousers where it pushes against Cas' hip. His hands tear at the buttons on Cas' long johns, warm fingers slipping under cotton and running over skin. Cas sucks in a sharp breath and bucks his hips up, rubbing into Dean's thigh. Dean slides the sleeves over Cas' arms and down his legs until he's naked but for his boots. Dean's still got most of his clothing on, only his coat and belt dropped on the floor and his trousers and underwear undone at the crotch.
"Turn around," Dean whispers against his mouth, taking the oil tank out of Cas' hand and pulling his hips back to give Cas room. Cas obeys, feet stumbling as he moves to face the wall, pants and underwear looped around his boots. Dean presses into him as soon as he's got his hands on the wall, pushing his body and his cock against the cool wood.
"Ah, Dean--"
"Shh," Dean smiles into the back of his neck, biting him gently, "There's still folk out there."
Cas suddenly feels self-conscious and anxious again, Dean's tongue and hands on his skin not enough to keep his mind at ease anymore. But before he can really start to panic, Dean's got an oiled finger pressing up against his hole, pushing in and touching him where he never thought to touch himself.
"Shit, Dean, oh-- Christ, there--"
"Now that ain't no language a holy man should be usin'," Dean laughs, his finger sliding deeper inside and making Cas hiss.
"Told you already. A-Ain't nothin' holy 'bout someone like me," Cas says between heavy breaths, trying to keep his voice quiet. Dean presses a second finger inside and Cas almost shouts before biting down hard on his tongue, tasting blood soon after. He hears the murmurs of the couple saloon patrons about the noise, and feels panic welling up in his chest, but Dean blows soothing breaths against his ear.
"Sorry, I'll give you warning next time."
"They heard," Cas whispers, feeling guilty and embarrassed, but Dean keeps moving his fingers, making Cas' breath hitch every few seconds.
"Yeah, but I don't think they're thinkin' too much on it. Just try and keep it quiet, Cas," Dean shrugs, and Cas leans his forehead on the wall, legs shaking so bad it's only Dean's weight against his back that's keeping him up. Cas feels a third fingertip pressing into him as Dean says, "One more. You ready?" He nods and bites down on his lip, and Dean kisses at his neck and pushes his finger all the way inside, spreading and opening Cas up slow.
Chewing on his lip and his eyes falling closed, Cas is struck by how odd it is what he's doing here with Dean, a stranger that hasn't been in town more than a week and is sure to be leaving soon, too. He's never let anyone know him, see him, or touch him like this, and here he's spoken to Dean for all of ten minutes and he's given him everything. He can't see those green eyes anymore with his face towards the wall, but he feels them in every inch of his skin, looking at all of him like no one else has. He figures he should feel guilty, or at the very least be worried about God and what He would think about this, but all he cares about is the drifter pushing against his back and the erection he feels pressed into his leg, wondering how soon it'll be inside him and what that'll feel like.
Dean's fingers are sliding out of him before he knows it and his teeth dig into his lip, muffling a moan.
"Cas, you ready?" Dean whispers into his ear, and Cas nods, even though he's just as terrified as he desperate for more. He hears Dean dip his fingers back into the oil and drag his hand along his cock, pressing light kisses over Cas' shoulders as he does. His other hand reaches up and slides his hat off, bringing it around and holding it up to Cas' mouth. "Bite on this," he says and Cas obeys, teeth digging into dark leather. Dean grabs one of Cas' hands where it's pressed onto the wall and slides their fingers together, gripping hard and rubbing his thumb against Cas'. Using his knee, Dean nudges Cas' legs apart, lining himself up and keeping Cas pressed into his lap.
art by yuyunurse
The next second, Cas feels something warm and wet pushing against his hole, much bigger than a couple of fingers, and he's glad he has the hat to bite on because it keeps his moaning quiet. Dean works his way in slow, letting out soft grunts into Cas' neck the deeper he slides inside. It hurts in a way he's never felt before, but not worse than other pains he's felt, and Dean slips further and further into him thanks to the oil. Soon, Cas feels the cloth of Dean's trousers pressed into his ass, his cock in as far as it'll go.
Cas' mouth nearly falls open when Dean slowly pushes forward, already all the way in but pressing Cas against the cool wood, but he feels the hat start to slip from his teeth and his jaw clenches down hard, his gasp coming out strangled and quiet.
"Easy," Dean whispers around his ear, and Cas shivers, making Dean grunt. His free hand runs down Cas' right thigh before pressing up against the inside of his knee, silently asking him to lift up his leg. Cas does, Dean holding his knee up with a hand placed on the wall beneath it.
"Dean," Cas whimpers, Dean's name coming out muffled.
"I'll go slow," Dean says, pressing a single kiss into his shoulder before pulling back his hips and sliding his cock halfway out of Cas before slowly thrusting back in. Cas moans, the sound of it stifled by the leather his jaw is still clamped down on, while Dean breathes heavily against his back. Every move of Dean's hips pulls a new sound out of Cas, dampened by the hat he's biting down on, but even with his voice kept quiet, he feels a nagging worry in the back of his mind, waiting for Ellen to walk around the corner, heading for her office, or one of the patrons hearing noises and checking to make sure no one's causing trouble.
"Feel good?" Dean asks, still moving at a steady pace.
Cas feels a mix of sore and raw and really damn good, so he nods, making Dean smile and push into him harder. Cas gasps before he can stop himself, hat slipping out of his mouth and dropping to the floor.
"Sorry, Dean, nn--" Cas groans, body burning and legs shaking, leaning all of his weight back into Dean to keep him standing.
"'S fine, Cas, 's fine," Dean says absently, focusing on his hips as he grinds them forward, resting his forehead on the back of Cas' neck. Dean's breathing is getting heavier and his thrusts faster, and Cas can't stop the short, quick gasps that keep slipping from his throat. "You feel--shit, ahh--damn nice, preacher. I'm already close to comin'."
Cas feels his cock, still hard but neglected between his belly and the wall, throb at the sound of Dean cussing, and he moans loud, making the small amount of chatter from the front of the saloon quiet down. Dean bites hard into the skin of his back, though he keeps his hips moving.
"Tryin' to get us found out?" Dean laughs quietly.
"No. Lord, no," Cas hisses, right before another groan tears from his lungs. Dean slides his fingers out from between Cas' where their hands have been held against the wall and brings them up to Cas' mouth, pressing against his lips until he opens them, taking Dean's fingers in. He hears the chatter pick back up out front, no one curious enough to come around and look for the noise, and Cas sighs in relief.
He focuses on keeping quiet, trying not to bite down too hard and break the skin of Dean's fingers. It's hard to do, with every thrust rocking through his whole body, sparks and shivers coursing through him, and Dean's mouth constantly peppering his skin with bites and kisses. Somehow he manages, swallowing down his moans and stifling his gasps with Dean's fingers, but the harder Dean slides inside him and back out again, the more Cas regrets them not going someplace more private. He wants to let loose--he's never had this chance before and he doubts he will again--but more than that, he wants to hear more sounds from Dean, who's been amazingly capable of keeping his voice quiet.
Cas wonders if Dean makes a lot of noise when he has the chance, or if he's always quiet. He wonders how long Dean's been traveling and what makes his hands so rough. He wonders why Dean keeps his clothes on while stripping Cas of everything, from his clothes to his skin until all that's left is raw truth and simple feeling. He wonders how often Dean does this, pulling aside strangers and opening them up with ease. He wonders how many of those strangers are men, or if he's special.
Dean suddenly swears in a hushed voice, hips slamming against Cas' ass hard as he thrusts up and in, shifting Cas' leg upwards just enough to let him in a bit deeper. Cas nearly feels the one leg he's standing on buckle and give out, but Dean keeps him up with a grunt.
"Sorry. Damn, almost--" Dean mumbles, face buried in Cas' neck, and Cas starts to pray.
Dear Lord, please let me keep this moment, my body and senses filled with Dean, forever and ever, Amen.
Cas can't go any longer with his cock just bobbing between himself and the wall, and he reaches down his right hand to start dragging around his sensitive skin like he hasn't since he was a teenager, before he found the church and kept himself to praying his wants away. He bites down on Dean's fingers when his own rub hard against the head of his dick, every muscle in his body squeezing, making Dean groan into his skin.
"Gonna come, real soon," Dean warns, and Cas groans around his fingers in response. His hand is moving fast around his cock, keeping in time with Dean's thrusts as he picks up speed, both of them breathing hard and skin on fire. Dean drops his hand away from the wall, letting Cas' leg fall down to the floor, and after a few more thrusts, slides his cock out all the way. Cas suddenly feels empty and cool as Dean leans back, but keeping his fingers in Cas' mouth, Dean grabs him by the shoulder with his other hand and spins him around, pressing his back into the wooden wall and pushing his cock against Cas' hand.
Cas is so startled his hand slips off, but Dean wraps a large, rough hand around the both of them and strokes twice, hard and fast, and they come together all over his fingers. Cas' jaw clamps down, biting into Dean's skin hard, but he keeps quiet while Dean lets out a low hiss. They slump together, breathing heavy against each other's necks, Dean's fingers pulling easily out of Cas' mouth, his jaw relaxed and every inch of him feeling boneless.
He isn't sure how many minutes go by, but it's a while before Dean starts to move, bringing his hand up to his mouth to start licking it clean, leaving Cas to slide down the wall onto the floor, his legs no longer able to keep him up, and sit on the pile of his clothes.
"How you feelin', preacher?"
Dean smiles down at him as his head lolls back against the wall, eyes blinking slowly upwards.
"I feel a might bit sore, a lot confused, and some embarrassed, but most, I just feel good."
"That's what I like to hear," Dean beams, kneeling down and grabbing his coat, wiping his hand against it to clean the rest of it.
"Why'd you..." Cas starts, but he frowns and stops, words struggling to come to mind. Dean gets what he means anyway and laughs lowly, grabbing Cas by the ankles and straightening his legs out so he can start sliding his long johns back up his legs.
"Wouldn't be right, messin' you up like that. Not when you got to walk back somewhere to get cleaned up, and you're gonna be walkin' a little funny as it is. 'Sides, cleanin's quicker this way."
Cas nods absently, the words washing over him while Dean slides his underwear under his hips and starts working on getting him back in his sleeves.
"It's Winchester, by the way."
"Hmm?"
"Dean Winchester. My name."
The name Winchester is famous this side of the Kansas River, and Cas feels his heart start to hammer and his head clear up fast. He's just done a very bad thing with a very bad man, but he isn't really sure he cares.
"You're brave tellin' me who you are. That, or a right fool."
"I ain't never told a man nor woman my whole name, not even my real first name, since my momma died," Dean says, working Cas' second sleeve up his shoulder before going for the buttons to start closing them up. His smile is casual, but Cas can see his eyes now, and they look lost and confused, not quite sure why he's telling Cas anything at all. Cas stays quiet, watching as Dean works the last of his buttons and starts tugging his slacks up his legs next.
"Sam and me, we been ridin' a long time, lookin' for the man that took our momma, and our father, too. Done some bad things tryin' to find him, which no doubt you've heard. Treated guys and gals real poor, screwed 'em and ran more times than I can count, but..."
His hands stop, body leaning forward over Cas, their faces so close Cas can feel his breath against his skin, but he keeps his eyes lowered. His voice is quiet when he speaks again, and Cas can swear he sees him shaking, just a bit.
"But I seen you a few days ago, and thought on you every night since then. I don't even know you, and here I am, spillin' my life story out at you." He laughs suddenly, finally looking up, and it makes Cas jump under his hands. "Think I'm tellin' you this seein' as you're a preacher?"
"I'm no Catholic priest, Dean. You confessin' to me won't square you up with God. That's between you and Him."
"Yeah," Dean says, hands starting up again, and Cas lifts his hips to help Dean slide his slacks around his waist. Dean leans away then, and Cas takes that to mean he's got to put his shirt and vest on himself. He grabs his shirt and starts on that first, eyes never leaving Dean's face as he pulls his sleeves over his arms.
"We're leavin' tomorrow."
"Off to find that man you two been lookin' for?"
"Yeah. Word is he's further out west. Seems, every town we get to, he's been there just days before. They call him Yellow Eyes."
"I pray you'll find him soon, then."
Dean pauses, biting down on his lip and reaching forward to grab his hat where it fell on the ground earlier, sliding it on.
"I hope to come back. See you again, iffin' you ain't mind seeing me, that is," he says, peeking out from under the rim of his hat.
"No, I wouldn't mind. I hope you come back, too, Dean. Without much more blood on your hands, or at the very least, no more hearts left broken behind you."
Dean blinks, face blank before brightening up in a smile, leaning forward and pressing a hard kiss to Cas' lips, making him melt all over again. When he pulls away, Cas' face is red and his heart is hammering again, tongue peeking out to drag along his bottom lip.
"I swear to you, I ain't got eyes for no one but you from this day on. So long as you swear the same to me," Dean adds with a wink.
"I swear," Cas says without hesitation, finishing the last button of his vest, leaving him looking only a bit more rumpled than when he'd been pulled back here to begin with. Dean smiles and his green eyes shine, pushing up on his knees until he's standing again, holding out his hand for Cas, helping him up when he takes it. Cas winces and stumbles back against the wall.
"Yeah, uh, that may be sore for a while."
"I figured."
"Them folk out front sittin' in the saloon'll be givin' me strange looks no matter what, but I suppose you should wait back here a while after I step out. You ain't the one leavin' this here town anytime soon."
"I suppose," Cas agrees. Dean chews on his lip some more, mulling over some question, and Cas waits patiently.
"Hey, Cas?"
"Hmm?"
"Seein' as we ain't headin' out til tomorrow, would it be--"
"You're welcome to stop by my home whenever you feel, Dean," Cas interrupts, smiling wide, and Dean grins right back, tipping his hat back and leaning in for another kiss.
"I'll be by tonight, then, Cas Novak," Dean says against his lips, and Cas leans forward to press them together once more.
"I'll be expectin' you, then, Dean Winchester," Cas replies, and Dean winks before taking a step back and walking away, Cas watching his back as he goes.
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Romance/PWP
Pairings or Characters: Cowboy!Dean/Preacher!Cas
Warnings: Western AU, sort-of exhibitionism
Word Count: 4576
Summary: "I don’t mean to presume, preacher, but I been watchin’ you since my brother and me came to this town, and I think you and me got a little somethin’ in common."
Author Notes: lol how do I western. Sorry fer keepin' y'all waitin'. Hopefully the dialogue ain't none too cheesy, folks. And I ain't done too much research, neither, so apologies for them historical inaccuracies. /tips stetson
UPDATE! now featuring lovely gift art from my friend yuyunurse@tumblr! :')
Ain't Much Holy 'Bout This
"So, I hear you're the town preacher."
"That I am."
Cas drags his finger along the rim of his glass, smiling as he focuses on the wooden counter. He's had this conversation countless times with other drifters, striking up conversation when they find him at the saloon and get curious, but for some reason, it's hard to look this one in the eye. Cas sees big hands playing with a hat out of the corner of his eye and wonders absently how many women have felt those hands, probably rough and strong from years of riding horses and working in the plains.
"Then how come I've been seein' you in this bar nearly every afternoon?"
"Because I like the folk who're in here nearly every afternoon," he shrugs, flashing a grin over at Ellen. She winks back at him, pouring someone a drink down at the other end of the bar.
"Yeah, but this ain't exactly the place for a holy man to be spendin' his time. No offense meant," he adds, turning to Ellen who gives him a glare, "But even with this bein' a fine establishment and all, what about your church?"
Cas finally looks away from his glass, into green eyes that are looking at him different than he's ever been looked at before. It makes his stomach clench and his palm sweat around his drink, and he feels drunk even if he's only had a sip or two of his whiskey.
"My church is fine. This town is full of kind folk, so I don't have much to worry for. And I am a man and I do spread the word of the Lord, but, uh, Mister...?"
"Dean," the cowboy says, and Cas waits for a last name, but that's all he gets.
"Well, Mister Dean, I promise there ain't much that's holy 'bout me," he smiles.
The green eyes narrow for a second before Dean's lifting off his seat, hat back on his head, and Cas expects him to turn and leave, disinterested, but Dean grabs him by the arm and drags him towards the back. "Wait, uh, Mister--"
He's cut off when Dean pushes him hard up against the wall of the hallway towards Ellen's office, between the spare tables and chairs kept in the back, the two of them hidden from the front of the saloon. There are rarely more than three people looking to get drunk before sundown, so the bar is fairly empty, but he still feels nervous, wondering if anyone saw and got curious.
"I don't mean to presume, preacher, but I been watchin' you since my brother and me came to this town, and I think you and me got a little somethin' in common."
Cas' eyes are focused on Dean's mouth, and he has a feeling Dean's right. He licks his lips and nods, mumbling absently, "That so?" Cas watches Dean's mouth turn up in a smile and feels his stomach fill with butterflies.
"That's so," Dean replies, tipping up his hat and leaning forward, pressing their mouth's together.
Their lips are both still wet from whiskey, and Cas can taste it on him. He remembers being a kid and kissing Anna from down the road, when he had no idea what he liked and what he didn't, and how it was absolutely nothing like this. He hasn't kissed anyone since he was young, both being a man of the church and a man looking not to get hanged for being different, but he imagines even if he had, it wouldn't be like kissing Dean.
Cas melts against Dean's mouth, opening his lips when he feels Dean's tongue slip between them. One of Dean's hands--rough and calloused, just like Cas had imagined--slides against his neck, thumb rubbing against his jaw, while the other starts undoing the buttons of his vest. Cas' heart is hammering in his chest, because he's never done this before and he's never known anyone did this, either, but he doesn't want to stop, hands gripping desperately into Dean's coat at the shoulders. Dean lets out an annoyed grunt into his mouth, and Cas suddenly feels self-conscious, pushing at him until he pulls away.
"What?" Dean asks, hand falling away from his neck and tugging at Cas' vest until he drops his arms and lets Dean pull it off of his arms.
"I'm sorry," Cas hisses, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth while Dean goes for his undershirt next.
"For what?" Dean asks absently, concentrating on the buttons.
"I'm no good at this, I've never-- I'm sorry, you're probably-- It's my fault, sorry," Cas rambles nervously, eyes squeezing shut.
"Woah, woah, calm down, preacher, what're you no good at? You're doin' just fine if you ask me," Dean laughs, voice quiet and head leaning forward, pressing kisses along Cas' jaw and down his neck. Cas shivers, not used to being touched like this or feeling like this or letting himself give in like this. Dean pulls away again, Cas already missing his touch, and looks hard into Cas' eyes as he opens them back up, asking, "But you really ain't never done somethin' like this before?"
Cas shakes his head and feels his face heat up in embarrassment.
"Well, I suppose that makes some sense, seein' as you're a preacher and all. But even if you got no experience, I'll show you a real good time," Dean grins, getting Cas' undershirt unbuttoned and starting to pull it off his arms. Cas feels naked already as it slides off and onto the floor, even though he's still got his trousers and his underthings on, but Dean's eyes are hungry and his hands work fast. He wonders if there's something he should be doing--maybe getting to work on Dean's clothes or helping with his belt as Dean concentrates on getting that undone--but he can't do much besides breath and hold on with Dean's mouth on his skin.
He's painfully hard inside his slacks, and when Dean runs his knuckles against him as he works at the button of his trousers, belt already adding to the pile of clothes on the floor, he bites down hard on his tongue to stop from crying out. He presses his hips forward without thinking, pushing for Dean to touch him again, touch him more, and Dean laughs against his throat.
"Hey, preacher," Dean says quietly, slipping Cas' slacks down his thighs and pressing a hand over his cock through his underwear, teasing him with light touches.
"Wh-What?" Cas breathes, his whole body shaking.
"You got a name?"
Cas blinks and goes still, realizing he never introduced himself.
"Castiel. Castiel Novak."
"Castiel?" Dean repeats, raising an eyebrow, "That's a... unusual name."
"Most... Most folk call me Cas."
Dean's eyes go wide, sparkling with something Cas doesn't recognize.
"Cas," Dean says, a smile breaking out on his face as the name falls off his lips. Cas feels his legs buckle at the sound of it coming out of Dean's mouth, and if Dean hadn't grabbed him, he would've crashed onto the floor. "Woah, easy there, preacher."
"Sorry, I'm sorry," Cas finds himself blabbering again, and Dean interrupts him with a hard kiss. He pulls back, their lips breaking apart, but their noses still touching and Dean's breath warm on Cas' mouth.
"I've got a job for you, Cas," Dean says, pulling his hand away from Cas' cock and leaving him with his trousers around his boots and his long johns still buttoned up. Cas nods without thinking, his knees unsteady when Dean calls him by name again, but he manages to keep him up on his feet this time. Dean reaches above him and unhooks the lamp from its place on the wall, bringing it down and pushing it into Cas' hands. The sun doesn't set for a few more hours, so the lamp hasn't been lit, and Cas stares at it curiously, not sure what he's supposed to do with it.
"Take this apart for me, would ya?"
"Huh? What for?"
"We'll be needin' that oil in a bit," Dean explains, and Cas is reminded how inexperienced he really is. He bites down on his tongue and nods, grimacing at the lamp as he works to unscrew it, while Dean slides out of his coat, dropping it onto the floor with the rest of Cas' things. Cas finds his attention split between the lamp and Dean undressing, hands faltering on the glass chimney as Dean's go for his belt. He's gotten it out of his slacks before noticing Cas' attention on him, letting out a laugh. "Hey, Cas, c'mon now, focus."
Cas flushes and looks down, fumbling awkwardly with the metal wick holder until he's got that undone, dropped on one of the tables around them with the glass half of the lamp.
"I-I think I got it," Cas mumbles, hands slipping on the bottom of the lamp filled with oil. Dean beams, kissing along his jaw and making his eyes fall shut, pressing his body against him, his cock hard through his trousers where it pushes against Cas' hip. His hands tear at the buttons on Cas' long johns, warm fingers slipping under cotton and running over skin. Cas sucks in a sharp breath and bucks his hips up, rubbing into Dean's thigh. Dean slides the sleeves over Cas' arms and down his legs until he's naked but for his boots. Dean's still got most of his clothing on, only his coat and belt dropped on the floor and his trousers and underwear undone at the crotch.
"Turn around," Dean whispers against his mouth, taking the oil tank out of Cas' hand and pulling his hips back to give Cas room. Cas obeys, feet stumbling as he moves to face the wall, pants and underwear looped around his boots. Dean presses into him as soon as he's got his hands on the wall, pushing his body and his cock against the cool wood.
"Ah, Dean--"
"Shh," Dean smiles into the back of his neck, biting him gently, "There's still folk out there."
Cas suddenly feels self-conscious and anxious again, Dean's tongue and hands on his skin not enough to keep his mind at ease anymore. But before he can really start to panic, Dean's got an oiled finger pressing up against his hole, pushing in and touching him where he never thought to touch himself.
"Shit, Dean, oh-- Christ, there--"
"Now that ain't no language a holy man should be usin'," Dean laughs, his finger sliding deeper inside and making Cas hiss.
"Told you already. A-Ain't nothin' holy 'bout someone like me," Cas says between heavy breaths, trying to keep his voice quiet. Dean presses a second finger inside and Cas almost shouts before biting down hard on his tongue, tasting blood soon after. He hears the murmurs of the couple saloon patrons about the noise, and feels panic welling up in his chest, but Dean blows soothing breaths against his ear.
"Sorry, I'll give you warning next time."
"They heard," Cas whispers, feeling guilty and embarrassed, but Dean keeps moving his fingers, making Cas' breath hitch every few seconds.
"Yeah, but I don't think they're thinkin' too much on it. Just try and keep it quiet, Cas," Dean shrugs, and Cas leans his forehead on the wall, legs shaking so bad it's only Dean's weight against his back that's keeping him up. Cas feels a third fingertip pressing into him as Dean says, "One more. You ready?" He nods and bites down on his lip, and Dean kisses at his neck and pushes his finger all the way inside, spreading and opening Cas up slow.
Chewing on his lip and his eyes falling closed, Cas is struck by how odd it is what he's doing here with Dean, a stranger that hasn't been in town more than a week and is sure to be leaving soon, too. He's never let anyone know him, see him, or touch him like this, and here he's spoken to Dean for all of ten minutes and he's given him everything. He can't see those green eyes anymore with his face towards the wall, but he feels them in every inch of his skin, looking at all of him like no one else has. He figures he should feel guilty, or at the very least be worried about God and what He would think about this, but all he cares about is the drifter pushing against his back and the erection he feels pressed into his leg, wondering how soon it'll be inside him and what that'll feel like.
Dean's fingers are sliding out of him before he knows it and his teeth dig into his lip, muffling a moan.
"Cas, you ready?" Dean whispers into his ear, and Cas nods, even though he's just as terrified as he desperate for more. He hears Dean dip his fingers back into the oil and drag his hand along his cock, pressing light kisses over Cas' shoulders as he does. His other hand reaches up and slides his hat off, bringing it around and holding it up to Cas' mouth. "Bite on this," he says and Cas obeys, teeth digging into dark leather. Dean grabs one of Cas' hands where it's pressed onto the wall and slides their fingers together, gripping hard and rubbing his thumb against Cas'. Using his knee, Dean nudges Cas' legs apart, lining himself up and keeping Cas pressed into his lap.
art by yuyunurse
The next second, Cas feels something warm and wet pushing against his hole, much bigger than a couple of fingers, and he's glad he has the hat to bite on because it keeps his moaning quiet. Dean works his way in slow, letting out soft grunts into Cas' neck the deeper he slides inside. It hurts in a way he's never felt before, but not worse than other pains he's felt, and Dean slips further and further into him thanks to the oil. Soon, Cas feels the cloth of Dean's trousers pressed into his ass, his cock in as far as it'll go.
Cas' mouth nearly falls open when Dean slowly pushes forward, already all the way in but pressing Cas against the cool wood, but he feels the hat start to slip from his teeth and his jaw clenches down hard, his gasp coming out strangled and quiet.
"Easy," Dean whispers around his ear, and Cas shivers, making Dean grunt. His free hand runs down Cas' right thigh before pressing up against the inside of his knee, silently asking him to lift up his leg. Cas does, Dean holding his knee up with a hand placed on the wall beneath it.
"Dean," Cas whimpers, Dean's name coming out muffled.
"I'll go slow," Dean says, pressing a single kiss into his shoulder before pulling back his hips and sliding his cock halfway out of Cas before slowly thrusting back in. Cas moans, the sound of it stifled by the leather his jaw is still clamped down on, while Dean breathes heavily against his back. Every move of Dean's hips pulls a new sound out of Cas, dampened by the hat he's biting down on, but even with his voice kept quiet, he feels a nagging worry in the back of his mind, waiting for Ellen to walk around the corner, heading for her office, or one of the patrons hearing noises and checking to make sure no one's causing trouble.
"Feel good?" Dean asks, still moving at a steady pace.
Cas feels a mix of sore and raw and really damn good, so he nods, making Dean smile and push into him harder. Cas gasps before he can stop himself, hat slipping out of his mouth and dropping to the floor.
"Sorry, Dean, nn--" Cas groans, body burning and legs shaking, leaning all of his weight back into Dean to keep him standing.
"'S fine, Cas, 's fine," Dean says absently, focusing on his hips as he grinds them forward, resting his forehead on the back of Cas' neck. Dean's breathing is getting heavier and his thrusts faster, and Cas can't stop the short, quick gasps that keep slipping from his throat. "You feel--shit, ahh--damn nice, preacher. I'm already close to comin'."
Cas feels his cock, still hard but neglected between his belly and the wall, throb at the sound of Dean cussing, and he moans loud, making the small amount of chatter from the front of the saloon quiet down. Dean bites hard into the skin of his back, though he keeps his hips moving.
"Tryin' to get us found out?" Dean laughs quietly.
"No. Lord, no," Cas hisses, right before another groan tears from his lungs. Dean slides his fingers out from between Cas' where their hands have been held against the wall and brings them up to Cas' mouth, pressing against his lips until he opens them, taking Dean's fingers in. He hears the chatter pick back up out front, no one curious enough to come around and look for the noise, and Cas sighs in relief.
He focuses on keeping quiet, trying not to bite down too hard and break the skin of Dean's fingers. It's hard to do, with every thrust rocking through his whole body, sparks and shivers coursing through him, and Dean's mouth constantly peppering his skin with bites and kisses. Somehow he manages, swallowing down his moans and stifling his gasps with Dean's fingers, but the harder Dean slides inside him and back out again, the more Cas regrets them not going someplace more private. He wants to let loose--he's never had this chance before and he doubts he will again--but more than that, he wants to hear more sounds from Dean, who's been amazingly capable of keeping his voice quiet.
Cas wonders if Dean makes a lot of noise when he has the chance, or if he's always quiet. He wonders how long Dean's been traveling and what makes his hands so rough. He wonders why Dean keeps his clothes on while stripping Cas of everything, from his clothes to his skin until all that's left is raw truth and simple feeling. He wonders how often Dean does this, pulling aside strangers and opening them up with ease. He wonders how many of those strangers are men, or if he's special.
Dean suddenly swears in a hushed voice, hips slamming against Cas' ass hard as he thrusts up and in, shifting Cas' leg upwards just enough to let him in a bit deeper. Cas nearly feels the one leg he's standing on buckle and give out, but Dean keeps him up with a grunt.
"Sorry. Damn, almost--" Dean mumbles, face buried in Cas' neck, and Cas starts to pray.
Dear Lord, please let me keep this moment, my body and senses filled with Dean, forever and ever, Amen.
Cas can't go any longer with his cock just bobbing between himself and the wall, and he reaches down his right hand to start dragging around his sensitive skin like he hasn't since he was a teenager, before he found the church and kept himself to praying his wants away. He bites down on Dean's fingers when his own rub hard against the head of his dick, every muscle in his body squeezing, making Dean groan into his skin.
"Gonna come, real soon," Dean warns, and Cas groans around his fingers in response. His hand is moving fast around his cock, keeping in time with Dean's thrusts as he picks up speed, both of them breathing hard and skin on fire. Dean drops his hand away from the wall, letting Cas' leg fall down to the floor, and after a few more thrusts, slides his cock out all the way. Cas suddenly feels empty and cool as Dean leans back, but keeping his fingers in Cas' mouth, Dean grabs him by the shoulder with his other hand and spins him around, pressing his back into the wooden wall and pushing his cock against Cas' hand.
Cas is so startled his hand slips off, but Dean wraps a large, rough hand around the both of them and strokes twice, hard and fast, and they come together all over his fingers. Cas' jaw clamps down, biting into Dean's skin hard, but he keeps quiet while Dean lets out a low hiss. They slump together, breathing heavy against each other's necks, Dean's fingers pulling easily out of Cas' mouth, his jaw relaxed and every inch of him feeling boneless.
He isn't sure how many minutes go by, but it's a while before Dean starts to move, bringing his hand up to his mouth to start licking it clean, leaving Cas to slide down the wall onto the floor, his legs no longer able to keep him up, and sit on the pile of his clothes.
"How you feelin', preacher?"
Dean smiles down at him as his head lolls back against the wall, eyes blinking slowly upwards.
"I feel a might bit sore, a lot confused, and some embarrassed, but most, I just feel good."
"That's what I like to hear," Dean beams, kneeling down and grabbing his coat, wiping his hand against it to clean the rest of it.
"Why'd you..." Cas starts, but he frowns and stops, words struggling to come to mind. Dean gets what he means anyway and laughs lowly, grabbing Cas by the ankles and straightening his legs out so he can start sliding his long johns back up his legs.
"Wouldn't be right, messin' you up like that. Not when you got to walk back somewhere to get cleaned up, and you're gonna be walkin' a little funny as it is. 'Sides, cleanin's quicker this way."
Cas nods absently, the words washing over him while Dean slides his underwear under his hips and starts working on getting him back in his sleeves.
"It's Winchester, by the way."
"Hmm?"
"Dean Winchester. My name."
The name Winchester is famous this side of the Kansas River, and Cas feels his heart start to hammer and his head clear up fast. He's just done a very bad thing with a very bad man, but he isn't really sure he cares.
"You're brave tellin' me who you are. That, or a right fool."
"I ain't never told a man nor woman my whole name, not even my real first name, since my momma died," Dean says, working Cas' second sleeve up his shoulder before going for the buttons to start closing them up. His smile is casual, but Cas can see his eyes now, and they look lost and confused, not quite sure why he's telling Cas anything at all. Cas stays quiet, watching as Dean works the last of his buttons and starts tugging his slacks up his legs next.
"Sam and me, we been ridin' a long time, lookin' for the man that took our momma, and our father, too. Done some bad things tryin' to find him, which no doubt you've heard. Treated guys and gals real poor, screwed 'em and ran more times than I can count, but..."
His hands stop, body leaning forward over Cas, their faces so close Cas can feel his breath against his skin, but he keeps his eyes lowered. His voice is quiet when he speaks again, and Cas can swear he sees him shaking, just a bit.
"But I seen you a few days ago, and thought on you every night since then. I don't even know you, and here I am, spillin' my life story out at you." He laughs suddenly, finally looking up, and it makes Cas jump under his hands. "Think I'm tellin' you this seein' as you're a preacher?"
"I'm no Catholic priest, Dean. You confessin' to me won't square you up with God. That's between you and Him."
"Yeah," Dean says, hands starting up again, and Cas lifts his hips to help Dean slide his slacks around his waist. Dean leans away then, and Cas takes that to mean he's got to put his shirt and vest on himself. He grabs his shirt and starts on that first, eyes never leaving Dean's face as he pulls his sleeves over his arms.
"We're leavin' tomorrow."
"Off to find that man you two been lookin' for?"
"Yeah. Word is he's further out west. Seems, every town we get to, he's been there just days before. They call him Yellow Eyes."
"I pray you'll find him soon, then."
Dean pauses, biting down on his lip and reaching forward to grab his hat where it fell on the ground earlier, sliding it on.
"I hope to come back. See you again, iffin' you ain't mind seeing me, that is," he says, peeking out from under the rim of his hat.
"No, I wouldn't mind. I hope you come back, too, Dean. Without much more blood on your hands, or at the very least, no more hearts left broken behind you."
Dean blinks, face blank before brightening up in a smile, leaning forward and pressing a hard kiss to Cas' lips, making him melt all over again. When he pulls away, Cas' face is red and his heart is hammering again, tongue peeking out to drag along his bottom lip.
"I swear to you, I ain't got eyes for no one but you from this day on. So long as you swear the same to me," Dean adds with a wink.
"I swear," Cas says without hesitation, finishing the last button of his vest, leaving him looking only a bit more rumpled than when he'd been pulled back here to begin with. Dean smiles and his green eyes shine, pushing up on his knees until he's standing again, holding out his hand for Cas, helping him up when he takes it. Cas winces and stumbles back against the wall.
"Yeah, uh, that may be sore for a while."
"I figured."
"Them folk out front sittin' in the saloon'll be givin' me strange looks no matter what, but I suppose you should wait back here a while after I step out. You ain't the one leavin' this here town anytime soon."
"I suppose," Cas agrees. Dean chews on his lip some more, mulling over some question, and Cas waits patiently.
"Hey, Cas?"
"Hmm?"
"Seein' as we ain't headin' out til tomorrow, would it be--"
"You're welcome to stop by my home whenever you feel, Dean," Cas interrupts, smiling wide, and Dean grins right back, tipping his hat back and leaning in for another kiss.
"I'll be by tonight, then, Cas Novak," Dean says against his lips, and Cas leans forward to press them together once more.
"I'll be expectin' you, then, Dean Winchester," Cas replies, and Dean winks before taking a step back and walking away, Cas watching his back as he goes.